


The History Project

by magdalyn



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, M/M, Self-Harm, Underage Smoking, there's a bj in chapter 7, this is so self indulgent i don't even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-04-25
Packaged: 2018-05-12 19:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5678083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magdalyn/pseuds/magdalyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(title may change later) pastel twink gets paired with gloomy blonde on a history project. What could go wrong? What could go right? Apparently a lot of things! Does Sock have more to him then meets the eye? Is Jonathan possibly not straight? Find out in this train wreck of a fic!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Yuppies do it, junkies do it_  
_Funny little monkeys in the zoo’ll do it_  
_Stupid does it, foolish do it_  
_Only the unlucky of us get to do it_

Jonathan’s ears perk up at the familiar lyrics and realizes that the music is not coming from the bus’s radio, but from the seat across the aisle from him. He turns, surprised, to see Sock, a kid in his gym class, hurriedly trying to plug his earbuds back into his phone. He’s wearing a pastel blue sweater and a plaid purple skirt with only spandex under it, even though it’s december. But no one would question this, of course. It’s Sock. It’s expected. Jon looks on for a few more moments before the bus stops and a blonde girl he vaguely recognized sits next to sock. He shifts to face the window, which is fogged over with condensation.  
_Would never think him to be a Mother Mother fan,_ he thinks to himself, and turns back to his own music.  
_I'm just leaning and it's coming to the surface_  
_Too much, always thinking too much..._  
The bus pulled up to the school with a groan and he was practically shoved into the aisle. He thanked the bus driver and walked off only to see something pink fall out of Sock’s bag. He picked it up.  
It was a condom.  
Blushing, he tried to subtly catch up to him. “Hey, you dropped this.” he mumbled. Sock turned and smiled. “Oh, thanks.” Jonathan was surprised at how nonchalant he was. Only freckles grazed his cheeks, no blush whatsoever.  
Practically the whole school knew Sock Sowachowski was promiscuous, or at least wished he was. The length of his skirts and the slightly bruised knees they revealed clearly showed that. But Jon himself couldn’t quite believe it. The freshman just seemed so...innocent?  
_What a great start to the day_ Jon thinks. His music is still playing, and he can see his breath. He pretends it’s cigarette smoke for a moment. He wishes.  
_Later on, I don't hope to find myself laid out in pieces_  
_I've been scattered and divided for no reason, I don't know_  
_And it's hurting so much_  
_Holding on, I am crashing for some way to stop this feeling_  
_By replacing what I'm feeling, am I sinking?_  
_Too much, always thinking too much…_  
✝✝✝  
_Okay, Sock. It’s just gym class. You can handle this. Just act as straight as you can and everything will be fine._  
He pushes open the door, and the first thing he sees is Zack Melto’s bare chest. _Fuck._ Game over.  
“Hey, it’s my favorite homo!” Zack yells before practically strangling Sock in his big arms and overenthusiastically ruffling his hair. “Yeah, yeah. Hi.”  
Zack Melto was an interesting specimen. Not because he could manage to stay on the football team and have one pierced ear (the gay one, too, but Sock’s not sure if he knew that), but because he seemed to run in every social circle. Instead of bullying Sock like he typically would, if this was a 90’s movie, he just treated him like everyone else, like he wasn’t a boy who wore skirts and pink.  
The locker room door creaked open behind him and Sock turned to see Jonathan Comb’s gloomy face. Sock mentally ran through the options of how he could address him after this morning. He decided to go with plan E and just act like it never happened.  
The boys start to change into their gym clothes, chatting about whatever. Some of the boys made sure to be out of Sock’s eyesight, even after four months of Zack explaining that just because he’s gay doesn’t mean he’s attracted to _every boy._  
He’s staring into space, waiting for some of the other boys to follow him out, when he realizes he’s been looking at Jonathan changing for probably a full 30 seconds now. Thank god no one had noticed. He decides to keep watching.  
Jon had already fascinated him a little. It had started in October, when he caught him laughing at something and was startled by how, well, pretty he looked smiling. After that, he couldn’t help but look at him every so often out of the corner of his eye. The sophomore didn’t cross paths with him often, only in his gym class so far, because the school mixed grades for gym classes for some reason, but Sock took what he could get. He still didn’t know if he could classify it as a crush, though. Probably just some old-fashioned attraction.  
Jonathan’s boxers slip a little as he puts on his gym shorts and Sock glimpses something dark on his hipbone. _Was that a tattoo?_ He can’t help but be intrigued.  
He probably would’ve looked on longer, but Jonathan had caught him and shot him a look that told him that wasn’t a good idea.  
He heard a loud knock on the door that shook him out of his trance. He heard Mrs. P’s voice shout, “Boys, I don’t even want to know what you’re doing in there, but wrap it up! We only have 80 minutes, you know.”  
Sock reluctantly leaves the locker room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the songs used in this chapter are let's fall in love by mother mother and way too much by wavves.  
> I know the "mixing grades for gym class" was a bit of a stretch but work with me here, okay?  
> it'll really get started in the next chapter...i promise.


	2. Chapter 2

_ Thank jesus that’s over. Now, one more class and I’m home free _ . Jonathan thinks to himself as he speed-walks out of the gym. He smells like newly-applied green apple deodorant and annoyance. He was out of it all class, his eyes glazed over and his movements awkward. He knew he should’ve slept earlier last night. But the call of tumblr was too tempting.

His phone buzzes with a text from Lil. 

lil 12:42 pm today

did you see jojo today? she was wearing thigh highs. THIGH HIGHS, JONATHAN.

He remembers why he recognized the blonde girl earlier. She was the one Jojo had been crushing on for what seemed like forever. 

He types a quick response. 

12:42 pm today

can you guys just date already? it’s almost painful to watch.

lil 12:42 today

no!! she’d never date me...i’m a wannabe hipster band geek and she’s, like, this eyeliner goddess.

 

He mentally rolls his eyes before he sees a familiar shade of red-brown bobbing next to him. He glances to his side and confirms that yes, that is Sock’s mass of hair, trying to escape from three glittery bobbie pins. 

Jon knows for a fact that Sock has math class after this-don’t ask how-so why is he here, awkwardly walking next to him?

“What do you want?” Jonathan grumbles, and instantly mentally recoils at how hostile he sounds.

Sock seems to be surprised at the fact he’s being talked to. “I’m a demon, and I’m here to haunt you.” He says sarcastically before he winces. “...I’m just now realizing how terrible that sounded.”

Jon holds back the urge to laugh. “No, really.”

Sock itches at his neck. “I got moved up a grade in history because I’m smart, i guess? And I know you’re in Mr. Mephistopheles class so I thought I would just follow you there.”

“Alright. Whatever. Just know Mephi isn’t exactly like the other teachers.”

Sock gives him a confused, nervous glance. He opens his mouth to say something, but doesn’t. Jon breaks the silence again. “You’ll see.”

✝✝✝

They walk in not a minute late, and Sock notices a few things right away.

For one thing, there’s only, like, seven kids in this class. Most of them look either stoned or asleep. And Mr. Mephistopheles, or “Mephi”, apparently, looks pretty dead himself, leaning on one elbow at the front of the room, looking at his class with exhaustion. the only lively thing about him is his orange hair, which sticks up in every direction.

Jonathan sits in a seat in the far corner and looks expectantly at Sock. _Fuck it_. He sits next to him. 

The wall next to him is peppered with graffiti. Slurs, names in hearts, and “welcome to hell” scrawled in dark letters.  _ Emo _ . He looks back at the front of the room. Mephi looks from side to side before pulling a flask from under his desk and taking a swig. He hides it again, looking much more lively, and starts organizing a stack of papers. Sock looks back at Jonathan, who is hunched over his phone, texting.  _ I wonder who. Maybe a girlfriend? Probably. _

He hears an ahem and turns to the front of the room. So does everyone else.

“So, I know this is going to shock you, but you’re actually getting an assignment today.” Half the room playfully groans. 

“As you all know, we’ve been learning about 1800’s england and the many writers that were born there. You’re going to be assigned to pick one and write a short story in their style. This may sound easy, but it’s probably your biggest assignment this quarter.” The room is silent now.

“You’re going to be working with partners for this, but since I’m nice, you just have to work with the person you’re sitting next to.” Most of the class seems happy about this, but Sock’s heart drops down to his waist. Shit. A group project with Jonathan? Does that mean they have to go to each other’s houses? Actually talk to each other?? He glances to the side, where Jonathan sits side-eyeing him nervously. He spins in his seat before Sock can look away. “Well, no getting out of this.” He pulls his earbuds out. “Who do you wanna do?”

“Wh-what?” Sock sputters.

“Who do you want to do the project on? Which writer?” Jon repeats in the same tone of voice. 

_ Damn, why is he so hard to read? Does he hate me or love me? _

“Umm, how about...Hans Christen Andersen? You know, the fairy tale writer?” He doesn’t know why he chose him, besides the fact that he was the only writer he could think of who sounded like he could be from 1800’s England. 

“Alright, I’ll go tell Mephi.” Jon slides out of his seat and Sock catches himself turning his head to watch him go.

_ Well, this is escalating quickly. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> possible renames for this fic: excessive use of italics


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoiler alert: jonathan is a fucking stoner  
> i've never smoked before so i might've gotten stuff wrong  
> *sings* this is so gay

“Geez, what’s wrong with you?” Lil asks as Jonathan shoulders his way out of the school’s doors.

“Don’t even fucking ask.”

“No, really, I’m genuinely curious.” They climb on the bus.

“I got in a project with Sock.”

“Sock Sowachowski?”

“What other fuckin’ Sock is there?”

Lil fixes her mauve hair, using her reflection in the window as reference. Jon sits in front of her and digs his phone out of his bag.

“Ooh. lucky you. Maybe you’ll finally get some action.”

‘Lil…” “What, are you still trying to convince me you’re straight?”

“No, it’s not that, just... Sock? Really?”

Lil is focusing on her music now, so Jon slumps in his seat and decides to do the same.

Along with his earbuds, somehow tangled even though he had looped them together neatly ten minutes ago, he finds the sticky note Sock had handed him before dashing out of the history room. He unfolds it. It has a phone number, and underneath it read _just in case._

_What’s that supposed to mean?_

He decides to not think about it and just adds it to his contacts quickly, turning up his music.

_There's a game in the world, a little bit of cat and mouse_

_With the boys and the girls, and if I had to ante up..._

He skips it.

-

When he gets home, after a long walk of teasing from Lil and making him promise he’d text him, he slumps on his couch.

_Jesus Christ, I need a cigarette._

He walks behind his house after raiding his stash (and only finding a measly butt) and leans against the concrete, watching the road for a second before pulling out his phone.

He decides to start simple.

 

4:06 pm today

What’s “just in case” supposed to mean?

 

Sock replies almost immediately.

 

sock 4:06 pm today

who is this

is this jack from the gas station

 

4:06 pm today

no...it’s Jonathan?

 

sock 4:06 pm today

oh.

yeah just in case we need to like compare notes or some shit idk

or other things ;)

 

He decides to ignore that and keep going.

 

4:06 pm today

ANYway I have no idea how tf you want to write this so let me know if you have any ideas…

 

sock 4:06 pm today

i was reading about the little mermaid earlier and did you know that hans christian andersen wrote that for a man that he couldn't be with

 

4:06 pm today

You know that’s an internet urban legend right?

Is that why you wanted to do this on him

Because he was gay

 

sock 4:06 pm today

lol no. i just thought it was interesting

anyway that was unrelated. wtf are we gonna do.

 

They text a bit more before deciding they would write a twist on a classic princess story. Sock would be most of the writing, and Jon would edit.

As he snuffs out his cigarette and steps inside, his pocket vibrates with another text.

 

sock 4:27 pm today

u wanna hang tomorrow and start it

 

Jonathan wonders why he needs him there to write, but hell, maybe it’s the cigarette smoke in his lungs, but he types back yes.

✝✝✝

Sock looks around the room he’s in once more. Nothing super exciting. Olive green walls, a few posters, characteristically messy. But he still can’t quite register he’s there.

It was a long day full of worrying and daydreaming before he finally sat with Jon (who mostly just leaned his head on the window and listened to music after a short, awkward conversation about some bands. Turns out they liked some of the same ones) on the bus and walked to his house.

Now he’s sitting on his bed silently while Jonathan proofreads his first paragraph. It’s taking him a surprisingly long time.

He stops himself from looking at him again. Jon was wearing a grey hoodie over a band shirt, one Sock had never heard of but apparently he should listen to, judging from Jon’s moment of excitement while telling him about them.

He’s also wearing skinny jeans, which is not helping Sock’s case at all.

Sock himself decided to go a safer route with his outfit today, wearing just a long striped shirt and ribbed leggings, complete with two choker necklaces and glitter nail polish.

Pretty safe.

Sock is startled out of his daze by the laptop getting shoved into his lap. “It’s actually pretty good, though I’m not sure if she would wear a strapless dress in this time period.”

Sock shrugs and goes back to typing. He’s not even sure of the plot of the story, at this point, he’s already BS’ing it.

The rain patters on the window he’s leaning on and he’s increasingly aware of Jon’s breathing next to him as he texts. _Probably his girlfriend,_ Sock reminds himself. _With my luck, he’s straight as hell and is definitely not interested in a probably mentally ill pastel-whatever kid like me. I mean, let’s be real here._

But he can’t stop nervously glancing to his right.

He gives up, and drops his head on the keyboard, typing a string of gibberish. “Agh, I can’t concentrate at all!” He lifts his head back up and sees Jon looking at him with a startled but amused expression. “Yeah, me too. Let’s take a break.” Jon gets up and stops in the doorway. “Do you want anything? We have coffee and tea. I also have weed, if you’re into that.”

Sock’s a little startled by this. He already knew that Jon smoked, hell, everyone did. But he was surprised he was sharing his supply with him so early.

“Uh, whatever you wanna do.”

“Weed and tea it is then”

He disappears down the hall. Sock panics momentarily before remembering that Jon’s mom was on a business trip, as he had been told earlier as they walked into the empty house.

 _I wonder what kind of lady raises a kid like Jonathan._ he wonders before Jon gets back, balancing two steaming teacups and an unlit joint in his fingers. Sock jumps up and takes one of the cups. It smelled like green tea.

As Jon lights the (thankfully small) joint, Sock takes a sip of his tea and the lies down on his stomach. He reflects on the situation. It would actually be a pretty nice, relaxing scenario if he wasn't so high-strung. It was raining out, they were in a comfy, parent-free home, smoking and drinking tea. But he was still jittery. He curses his anxiety. _There's just still so much we don't know about each other. What if he kills animals in his spare time?_

_That's you, dummy._

_Oh, right._

They start passing the joint between each other. It stings Sock’s eyes but surprisingly he manages not to cough. He's desperate to break the silence, though. They're bother just lying on their backs on the bed, Socks legs propped up on the wall, listening to the rain and starlings at the glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. It's not an uncomfortable silence, but Sock still wants to talk.

“So what's Mephi’s deal anyway?”

“Disillusioned with humanity, probably? You would be if you worked at a high school that long.”

“He’s not that old, though…”

“I don't know. Probably drinks some kind of youth elixir out of that flask of his.”

They talk about a few more things, about their classmates and stuff like that. Sock finds out Jon's single ( _but still probably hetero_ ). It may just be the weed, but they're getting along surprisingly well.

“So what's so great about Wavves anyway?”

“Well, let's get one thing straight--”

“Straight as me.” Sock can't help interrupting before correcting himself. “Wait, that makes no sense. Straight as you.”

“I'm bi as fuck, actually.” Jon starts before naming a bunch of Wavves’ best songs, according to him. But Sock’s not listening all that much, instead, a small siren is going off in the back of his mind. _He'sbihesbihesbihesbi!_

_Ok, but like, what do I do about this._

He looks back at Jon, who's taking a hit. Sock takes in his faint freckles and pale blue eyes.

_Okay, so he's too gorgeous not to go after. But how?_

An inkling of an idea popped into his head. “Hey, Tom’s having a party on New Years, do you wanna go?”

Jonathan considers this. “If I can bring Lil, yeah.”

“No idea who that is, but sure!”

Jon smiles. “Okay, cool.”

_It's a start._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aah sorry this turned out to be a slow burn i'm staaalling  
> i'll try to update soon ik this is a cliffhanger (probably? is this that intriguing or is it just suuuuper gay)  
> also if you guys like my writing you should check out my other non-fandom work on AO3 that i'll be slowly updating. You can find it through my profile.  
> (shamelessly gonna promo it forever now)

Sock wears a crop top to school the next day. A fucking crop top.

Jon’s not sure which to marvel at: the fact that the late December temperature didn’t seem to bother Sock at all, or the faint freckles on his slightly chubby stomach.

 _How do you even get freckles there?_ Jon wonders as he stares at the clock. It’s the 31st. Tonight’s the party. He’s not sure if he’s nervous, or excited. A cocktail of both, maybe.

 

 _I wonder where else he has freckles._ Jon thinks before mentally scolding himself. _Mm, don’t think that. There’s no point to it._

_He’s way out of your league anyway._

The bell rings, mercifully ending the day early. Sinnergy High knew it’s students well; everyone would skip the last half of the day to go prep for their parties anyway.

Waiting next to Lil in the doorway is none other than Tom himself. Lil looks half uncomfortable.

As they walk out, Tom catches up to them. “Hey, I heard you guys are coming tonight?” “Yeah…” Jon starts. He secretly hopes Tom won’t ask him to bring anything, especially in front of Lil. He told her he quit. Though, he’s not quite sure she believed him anyway, the amount of times he shows up to school either high or smelling like it.

“Well, just looking forward to seeing you there. Everyone’s welcome to spend the night, also, so keep that in mind.” He walks off before Jon can respond.

He liked Tom well enough. He was a second-year senior who did janitorial work after school, and Jon knew him well enough. They had hung out a few times, he even bought shit from him before Tom quit himself. Jon still didn’t know why. Maybe to put more time into the scraggly goatee he kept telling him to shave off, for god’s sake.

“I didn’t know I was going to a party.” Lil starts as they maneuver the icy roads leading to their houses.

“You are now. It’s not like you have anything better to do.”

“Well, it just so happened to be your lucky day, because what I was _going_ to say before Tom interrupted us,” she smiles with her head tilted downward, then looks up at him.”I finally talked to Jojo!”

This actually shocks Jon. “You’re kidding.”

“Well, technically, she talked to me first. Get this: she actually complimented me! She said I was pretty, Jonathan!”

He laughs. “Calm down.”

“Anyway, we ended up talking all period. She said we should hang out sometime. She wants to do my makeup. And I was thinking, if Sock invited you to the party, which he definitely did, then she’s going. So maybe she’ll do our makeup.”

 _Our?_ Jon thinks. But he has to admit, it’s a good plan. He likes seeing Lil all blushing and happy like this, and he was planning on dressing up, so what’s the harm?

By the time he’s home, Lil had already called Jojo and planned the whole thing. He had four hours before they were over.

 _Lord,_ Jon thinks as he slumps back on his bed, pulling on some headphones, _what am I doing?_

-

It’s eight, and Jon is sitting in front of the bathroom mirror, and Jojo’s face is way too close to his own. She’s applying eyeliner.

“No, really, I don’t get this whole thing about guys wearing makeup. They should do it more often! It’s totally hot!”

She pulls back after another moment of strange pain on his eyelid, and he catches his reflection. Lil laughs out of surprise, but he has to agree, he looks pretty good, if not a bit emo.

Jojo plays with his hair a bit, not changing it much but musing on how gay his undercut is (he doesn’t deny it) and then makes him switch places with Lil.

They had already changed into some better outfits. Jojo had arrived in an oversized band shirt (Nirvana), tucked into a red plaid skirt. And yes, she was wearing knee highs, which made Lil shoot Jon a look when she walked in. She had brought Lil a pair of fishnet tights, which she wore under a long sweatshirt, borrowed from Jonathan. That had always been a habit of theirs, stealing each other’s clothes.

An hour later, they agree they’re done and bike over to Tom’s house. It’s freezing and icy, and the wind rips at Jon’s face and makes his eyes water. The rainbow lights radiating from Tom’s humble house are a welcoming sight.

✝✝✝

Sock’s sitting on the floor near the middle of the room, planted in a group of people he only kind of knew. Old Fall Out Boy songs played in the back of the room as he eavesdropped on the different conversations around him. This is where he liked to be; in a warm room, lit by colored lights and surrounded by people he vaguely knew.

But he was still just a bit jittery. Jojo had texted that she was on her way over like ten minutes ago.

His thoughts were interrupted by a cold wind hitting his face. He looks up to see Jon, Jojo, and Lil walk in the door. Lil (he couldn’t remember how he remembered her name, she was probably in one of his classes. He had talked to her before, he knew that much.) gathered the other’s coats before getting pulled away by the wrist by Lil, who gave a mischievous wink that left him wondering what plan she hadn’t told him about.

He looked back at Jonathan, who was still in the doorway, already looking weary. Socks eyes widened as his mind raced.

_God, he’s hot. Normally he’s cute, but now? Is he wearing eyeliner? That’s playing dirty. And how did I not notice all his piercings before?_

But the most prominent thing he noticed was, _is he really walking towards me?_

Jon sat next to him and they didn’t talk for a minute. Sock looked around the room again. Half of the partygoers were not sober in some way, shape, or form already.

A sticky hand alights on his shoulder. It’s Tom. “Hey, lovebirds. We’re having a gag reflex contest in the kitchen. You should join.”

“Uhh...why?” Sock asks, a little suspicious.

“There’s a prize!”

He’s not sure it’s worth the thirsty looks he’s going to receive, but Jon is already following Tom down the hall.

There’s about twelve kids in the room, including Lil and Jojo, who’s passing out lime green popsicles to everyone.They head over to Lil, who’s leaning on the pink wall, looking vaguely uncomfortable, but not too much to be concerning.

Tom’s going down the line, commenting on how far people can get the freezing popsicles down their throats. Sock is actually surprised by well some of them do. It ends up with about seven people “winning”, including three of their group (Lil choked after, like, one inch. But it’s not like she’s be using that skill much anyway, Sock gathered from the way she looked at Jojo. He hoped that would work out.) Sock wondered what would happen next, but more so was working on the furious blush that had climbed on his face. Seeing the green sugar water run down Jon’s chin made him startlingly flustered.

_Calm the fuck down. This is just another party. Jon is just another guy._

But he didn’t quite believe it.

“Okay, what’s the prize?” Jojo shouted over his shoulder.

“Shots, of course!” Tom backs away from the counter to reveal a neat line of ominous shotglasses. Sock mindlessly takes one and tosses it back in unison with everyone else.

He wipes his mouth and winces. It travels through him more like a bullet than a liquid. “God, what was that!?”

“This.” Tom toothily grins and hands him a round bottle. He glimpses a skull wearing a sombrero, and above it is the word _Vodquila_.

_Ohh shit._

_I think I can feel it already._

Before he can react, Jonathan grabs his hand. “Sock, c’mon. Midnight’s in 40 minutes.”

_Well, even though I just took a shot of probably what Mephi uses to stay young, I think this’ll be a night I remember._

  



	5. Chapter 5

It’s 11: 30 at night, and Jonathan has found himself in the last place he could’ve predicted he’d be; sitting next to Sock Sowachowski in Tom’s living room.

They’re in a pretty average situation, sure; watching the ball drop on TV while slowly going through another jello shot (He’s lost count at this point; enough to make him lose his judgement, shown by the way he grabbed Sock’s hand 10 minutes ago, but not enough to make him black out). But the feeling he had he was definitely not used to. Like someone had deep-fried his insides and stuck them back inside his skin. While that’s a pretty gross image, it’s exactly how he felt in that moment. 

The room was sweaty and lit by only a couple lava lamps, and there were a few people with them, the types that Jon would usually hang out with anyway; dyed hair, band shirts, headphones, and piercings. Jon had only seen a handful of people that looked Sock’s type. At the moment, there was only one in the room; a boy wearing a pink varsity jacket and skinnier jeans than Jon had, which was saying something.

Jonathan couldn’t help but wonder how Sock had ended up at this party. Was he just friends with someone here? Or was it more than that?

He got his answer when a pale hand appeared on the shoulder next to him. He turned and saw a dark-haired junior wearing a football jacket smiling devilishly at Sock. Jon had a minor heart attack, thinking it was Zack, but he wouldn’t be here on a night like this.

Sock looked up at the dude’s face. They were only a few inches apart. 

“Hey, Napoleon. Wanna meet me in the closet in a few minutes?” He turned and left before anyone could answer.

Sock gave Jon an apologetic look. His face had only the smallest hint of embarrassment, but it was still there. “I’ll be right back.” He slurred, and followed the nameless jock.

_ Great. _

Before he could sulk anymore he heard the door open. A tall guy walked in that he had never seen before, but where his eyes went was the guitar case in his hand.

Tom ran over to greet him in the form of snatching the case out of his hand and hoisting it above his head while the guy laughed. “Is anyone here good at playing guitar? Because I know this kid isn’t!” He laughed, and Tom’s eyes landed right on Jon. “Jonny-Boy! I remember you being good with your hands, why don’t you take over?” He tossed the case right at him, and he had to jump to catch it.

Jon scooted back a bit so he could lean on the couch and took the guitar out of it’s case. It’s good that he caught it, it was a good model, a little worn, with a big pink flower sticker on the center, but it was in tune and nice to play.

After a couple old emo songs, people started to request things, and then when they got sick of him repeating “I’ve never heard of that song in my life” or “If you give me the chords, sure”, he just started to mindlessly play. 

It was one of the only songs he had had to write the chords to all by himself, but he felt compelled to play it.

 

_ I can't concentrate _

_ My brain's damaged over you  _

_ I'm saying stupid things _

_ I bet he doesn't know my name  _

 

He doesn’t even notice he changed the pronoun, but his mind does wander as he moves his hands in that familiar way. Not about the people listening to him, (he knew he always sang better when he wasn’t sober) more about why he was at the party in the first place. Something about just why he wanted to play the song. 

 

_ But my head hurts _

_ And without you it's worse _

 

_ I want you to take _

_ Shove me deeply into your veins _

_ I want you to come _

_ Breathe me deeply into your lungs _

 

_ But my head hurts _

_ And without you it's worse _

_ Suffocating on my own _

_ You're killing me, I hope you know _

 

With that line, he realizing something.  _ Oh, shit. I think I like Sock. A lot. _

He also notices two things; he stopped playing, and Sock was watching him from the doorframe that led to the kitchen. he started singing again, trying to drown out his own thoughts.

 

_ I don't exist, I don't exist _

_ Whoo, _

_ I don't exist, I don't exist _

_ Whoo, _

 

_ But my head hurts _

_ And without you it's worse _

_ Suffocating on my own _

_ You're killing me, I hope you know _

 

_ I hope you know… _

He finished the song just as Sock sat down next to him again. “Wow, I didn’t know you could sing! You’re so good! And your voice is so low!” He scrunched up his nose, looking like he didn’t mean to say that.

“Any requests?” Jon asks, hoping that it’s the alcohol that’s making his stomach feel this way.

Jon is surprised at the songs that Sock chooses, even more surprised that he knows the chords. 

 

_ I didn’t ask for that _

_ You give me heart attacks… _

 

The song was too cheery and sappy for him personally, but he had learned it back in his Grouplove phase anyway, so why not. The people around him, including Sock, knew the words already, and sang along. Individually, they probably would’ve sounded pretty bad, but as a group it just barely worked.  _ Figures, they strike me as a weirdo-pop kind of crowd. _

 

_ Even when I can’t see my rear view _

_ Even if I call just to hear you _

_ Even when I sleep all day _

_ Even when I sleep all day _

_ Even if I wasn't like I'm times two _

_ Living in the back of a bunk just like we do _

_ Even when I dream all day _

 

He’s so concentrated on playing he doesn’t notice Sock’s head on his shoulder.

-

The song is just ending when he hears the first scream. It’s a happy scream, though; it’s 11:58. People start running around, trying to find their dates while others scan the room for desperate faces. Jon is just there, on the floor, watching his surroundings. Yeah, he’s there, but he feels pretty unattached from the room. The fog of alcohol and confusion clog his head just enough that when he hears the countdown start. He looks to his side, and sees a familiar shade of purple over on the wall. It was Lil, pinning up Jojo on the wall. He smiles to himself.  _ About fucking time. _

Jon tells himself he’s content with just being there. He doesn’t necessarily need to be kissed when the clock strikes twelve. But even as he thinks that, there’s a dull ache in his chest. 

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” the air is alive with noise from the tv and laughs and yells from the people around him. It’s a nice moment; the feeling and the warmth of the party combined with the exhilaration of knowing you have an entire new chapter ahead of you.

_ A whole new year to fuck up.  _ Jon thinks and turns to his right to see if Sock is still there. 

He’s greeted with a kiss.

His eyes widen, but he doesn’t pull back. His mind is surprisingly blank. It's pretty nice. So is the feeling.

The kiss deepened quickly. The tongue in his mouth was sugary, like the jello shots he had had earlier, but there was a hint of something else. Caramel? Sour apple? Whatever it was, it was intoxicating. He wanted more.

Jon wasn’t even thinking about the other people in the room at that point,  _ They’re probably all too busy anyway.  _ He reaches his hand to tangle his fingers in the other person’s hair. It’s soft and fine.

He feels himself getting pushed onto his back, and being tall and clumsy like he is, of course his head hits the floor. 

This breaks the kiss, and now all he can see is an unmistakeable pair of green eyes. But, hell, he can’t really say he was surprised. Or that he minded.

“Hey hot stuff,” Jon says, grinning. “See something you like?”

Sock responded by putting his hand in his and pulling him up and into another room. 

✝✝✝

He’s not even sure where they are at this point, just that the room is only lit by a small glowing night light. And there’s a bed, with a blanket with purple stars. 

It’s kind of a blur, everything that night had been. But the chaos was emphasized now by the freezing hands under his shirt.

He pulls back, leaving a thin string of saliva between them. 

“Wha-what is it?” Jon asks, his eyes heavily hooded as he looks at Sock in the dim light.

“I just can’t believe you like me back.” Sock regrets this as soon as he says it, and Jon seems to read his mind as he replies.

“Ah, not too soon. We’re both wasted.”

Sock opens his mouth to say something, but he’s interrupted. “But, for the record, I can’t believe you like me back either.”

Sock was so focused on those words, and the lips saying them, that he didn’t notice the soft bed he was being lowered onto.

Jon was grinding onto him, creating friction he didn’t realize was necessary until now. He asked a silent question to Jon, who just nodded. He leaned backwards and started to pull his shirt off, with crossed arms (the “girl way”, he had learned guys liked that better) when the world behind the fabric was suddenly  _ way _ brighter.

He hastily pulled it back down, and fixed the other bits of clothing he didn’t remember loosening, when he heard Tom’s exasperated voice. “I mean, I’m not saying you guys can’t get it on, by all means, do, but not in my goddamn sister’s room! I thought I had locked it…”

They both sit on the bed, blushing and embarrassed, while Tom, more sober than them, mutters to himself, walking back and forth. Sock feels some sweaty fingers intertwine with his, and feels a little more drunk.

Tom turns to them again. “Okay, Jon, you’re too drunk to bike home, and Sock, I’m not letting you go back on a bus like this. But I’m also not letting you sleep in here. You’re so lucky she’s in the hospital tonight, or I would be  _ so _ pissed.”

They look at each other as they follow him out of the room.  _ Wow. What a mood killer.  _ But the look Jon gives him as they walk into kitchen makes him think twice.

“Blankets are on top of the fridge. I’m out of here.” Tom says and books it, leaving them alone.

“Uh…” Sock starts. He’s at least 80% they’re just going to sleep now. But he's stopped by a finger on his lips. 

“Dude, just shut up for once.”

Jon’s mouth on his neck, and his back hitting the counter, are the last things he remembers when he replays the night the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao  
> gay  
> go read my other story too thx xoxo


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **major trigger warning for self harm here**  
> also possible smut next chapter?? who knows!!

Jon wakes up shirtless, but thankfully still in boxers. He’s lying on a freezing tile floor wrapped in three blankets and a pair of warm arms. He knows exactly who they belong to, judging by the nail polish.

He’s almost tempted to go back to sleep, to roll over back into Sock’s side and wait until the other partygoers wake up, but he knew he shouldn’t. He didn’t want to face the rest of the group, including Lil and Jojo, wherever they had ended up (though he did want to get the full story from Lil later), and he definitely didn’t want to help clean up.

He has a pounding headache, too, but at least the alcohol had worn off.

He reaches behind his head and groans at the bright screen, and what it reads. Four hours into the new year.

Reluctantly, Jon shakes Sock awake. He blinks at him, his hair covering half his face. “What--why? What time is it?”

“Four, but we gotta go.”

“Where? Why?”

“I’ll tell you after we get some clothes on.”

Ten minutes later, they’re tiptoeing out of the house while Jon wonders how he’s going to get Sock back to his house. He only has one bike, plus it’s dark, and cold, and they only have streetlamps and the moon to light their way.

“Oh my god, can I ride on the handlebars?” That answers the question.

“Sure, if you don’t kill us.”

Jon had never done that before, but he had tried a lot of new things in the past twelve hours, so what’s one more thing.

A harrowing, ten-minute drive later, they pull into Jon’s driveway. Their noses are both bright red, and Sock is laughing at Jon’s winded expression.

“We almost died like six times.”

“Yeah! Wasn’t it great?”

They walk into the dark house. Thankfully, Jon’s mom is still away. _This is probably the best timing she’s ever had for a business trip. I should thank her later._

Jon walks into his room, followed by Sock, and slumps on his bed. Sock stands in front of him, wondering what to do, before Jon lifts his arm and motions for him to sit there.

They sit like that for a while, just silent. Jon eventually breaks the silence by putting on some music.

“So what do you wanna do?” he says, leaning back on the wall. It strikes him how tired they both look and feel. Neither of them wanted to admit it, but coming to terms with that many feelings, that quickly, in one night, takes a toll on you.

“Let’s just talk. I already know you like me, but do I _really_ know the true Jonathan Combs?” Sock says flirtatiously.

“I don’t know what you’re expecting.” Jon replies, amused.

“Something behind the gloomy stoner shell.”

“Huh.” Jon starts.

They talk for a while, getting to know each other a bit more. They end up kissing somewhere in between words.

Jon ghosts his hands over Sock’s sides again when he brushes against something rough. He breaks away, startled. He knows all too well what it feels like.

“What is it?” Sock giggles.

“Can you take your shirt off for me?” Sock obliges, and Jon gasps at what he sees. All over Sock’s stomach and chest are faint, straight red scars, including one deep angry one going right horizontally down the middle.

“God, I must’ve been really wasted to not have noticed that before.” Jon says as Sock’s shoulders fall.

“You wanna say anything else?” Sock whispers.

“Do you?” Jon goes, then a little quieter, “Please tell me you don’t do that anymore.”

Sock sighs and lies down on the bed. He looks so young and fragile right then. Jon wants to kiss his scars, but he feels like it’ll be too much. Instead, he just listens.

“I started just last year. It just, it was addicting, ya know? It was a sign that my feelings weren’t a joke. And it felt good. But eventually I realized it was wrong, and started using the opposite coping method. You can probably guess what that was.”

Jon almost doesn’t want to say it. “Uh, sex?”

“Yeah...but honestly, you can’t say you haven’t want to hurt yourself before.”

Jonathan wordlessly shrugs off his sweatshirt. He can tell It takes a second for Sock to see them, but once his eyes adjust to the sight of the many faded, pink scars on Jonathan’s arms, he can’t stop seeing more.

“Of course.” Jonathan answers.

“Well, I think you know what I’m going to say.”

Jonathan tilts back his head and sighs before looking back at Sock again. “No, of course I still don’t do it.” He neglects to mention how he had first moved on to different methods; burning himself, scratching at raised scars, even overeating, before he finally, more or less, just got _tired_ and stopped.

✝✝✝

“But I think we can agree my coping method’s cooler than yours.” Sock can tell he bites his tongue when he says it, but he’s not offended.

He slides off his pants and pulls up the ends of his boxers a bit before Sock can say anything.

On his pale thighs are what looks like what Sock would doodle in the margins of a notebook. Dozens of fading tattoos.

“Stick-and-pokes!” Jonathan says, sounding almost...proud of himself?

All sock wants to do is lay his head next to Jonathan’s legs and study the designs there, but he feels like that would be too much.

He feels out of place with his pants (well, tights) on, so he peels them off with a remark of “Oh, so it’s _that_ kind of party.”

Now they’re sitting on Jon’s warm bedsheets, just as awkward as they were two weeks ago, but now they’re both in only their underwear.

The air seems to just _scream_ the same thing: _what the fuck do we do now?_

Luckily, Sock has a secret desire saved up for this. The soft music playing does distract him for a second, but he gets back to it.

“Can you give me a tattoo?” he says, in that candied voice of his, the kid one.

“Uh, really? I’m not sure if I have any clean needles.” He gets up and starts to sift through the various piles of junk around his room. It’s takes Sock all his strength to not look at his ass.

Jon sits back down on the soft bed with a few things in his arms.

“Okay, when I first started this, I thought these things fade away, and they do a little bit, but they’re mostly permanent. So I hope you’re pretty sure about what you want.”

“Oh, I’m pretty su-” “”Alright then, what do you want?”

Jon is laying out a bottle of ink and a package of labelled “sterilised tattoo needles” on the bed, along with some more confusing things, like a jar top and unscented lotion.

“I’ve got the perfect word. I’ll draw it for you. To go right here.” Sock points to his lower back. “Believe it or not, I’ve thought about this before.”

“You’ve thought about getting a tramp stamp before?” Jon laughs, and Sock blushes slightly.

“Honestly, who hasn’t wanted one?”

Jon rolls his eyes at him and breathes out a little. “Okay, bend over, I gotta disinfect the area.”

“Damn, you had me excited there for a moment.”

Sock can’t see Jon from this angle, but he’s sure he’s trying not to facepalm.  

There’s a moment of a rough, cold sensation on his back, before Jon asks him to draw out his design, handing him a ballpoint pen and a sticky note. He tries to keep his hand steady as he writes out the spindly letters. He hands it back to Jon, and in no time, he feels the particular poke of the pen against his skin.

“Okay, I’ll be right back. Gotta go disinfect this.” He flashes Sock a smile and a quick glimpse of a needle tucked into a pencil cap before he walks out. Sock flumps back on the bedsheets. Even if this is only his second time here, he loves the feel of them under his skin. There’s much more there than last time.

He flips over and buries his face in the soft, pilly material. It smells familiar, like Jon’s deodorant and something pungent and sweet that he recognizes but can’t name.

For a blissful split second, all he is is happy. To be there, not at home, alone. It’s weird to think about how normally, at this hour, he would be in a number of other, more exciting places, maybe the gas station, or his living room. But he’s happy lying here in his underwear.

And then, his eyes widen, his eyelashes scraping against the fabric. He pulls himself upright.

How did he take this long to realize how exposed he was? _We’ve only been but talking for what, a week? Two? What am I doing?_

In a far corner of his mind, he knows he doesn’t wholly feel this way, and curses his anxiety for flaring up _right now, it had to be right now, didn’t it?_ But despite these faint thoughts, his stomach still lurches when Jon re-enters the room.

“Ready?” He’s smiling, and that alone is what it takes to make Sock swallow his worries and nod his head.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao here's the LEWD chapter, skip if that squicks you out  
> this is kinda my first time writing stuff like this, so if it's fuckin strange that's why  
> author's innocence = gone  
> >>:3c

It’s been a week. One week into the new year. The boys had managed to finish their project, but Mephi seems to have completely forgotten about it. That still gives them a good excuse to hang out, especially now that Jon’s mother is back from her trip. Not like they have recently, though. Something’s different.

Jon notices it first. Sock had been avoiding him, only slightly. He was hanging out with Jojo more, and Lil as a result, since now the girls never seemed to leave each other’s sides.

Jon was still a little shell-shocked from Lil’s story of how it all happened. It sounded too good to be true, and Jon couldn’t help but worry that it was.

But he was also still preoccupied with just exactly _why_ Sock’s personality had seemed to go down a few notches around him.

It’s gym class now. Jon is sitting around in the locker room, waiting for Sock, but if you asked him, he wouldn’t admit to it.

As Sock pulls his shirt over his head, Jon catches a glimpse of two marks he had put there; a magenta hickey on his neck that hadn’t quite faded yet, and the word “DEMON” scarring over in ink right above the waistband of his underwear.

He still wondered why he chose that word.

The boys all filter into the chilly gym with grim looks on their faces as soon as they see how it’s laid out.

Today is the pacer test.

They all knew the drill; run back and forth between the lines as the recording beeped faster and faster, and probably embarrass yourself.

Jon wasn’t that worried, seeing as he wasn’t the worst at running and didn’t really care about his peer’s opinions of him anyway.

Mrs. P lines them up on the red starting line and for a few minutes Jon’s worries of Sock are forgotten as he pushes himself to move his skinny legs.

He makes it to 40. Good enough.

He slides down the wall and breathes heavily. His chest feels like it might burst, but he also feels pretty refreshed.

He feels a tug on his shirt, and turns to see Sock jerk his head towards the locker room. He follows him in.

Before he can even ask why, Sock somehow manages to slam him against the red-and-black painted lockers. Their faces are centimeters apart.

“You look so hot when you’re winded.” Sock breathes. “You can’t run from me forever, you know.”

“I--I’m not running from you, I think?” Jonathan chokes out. He’s not used to this dominant side of Sock.

Sock rolls his eyes. “Well, whatever. There’s no one in here, so unless you’re planning on being less attractive anytime soon…” He closed the gap between them, and before he knew it, Sock’s intoxicating power was over him again.

Jon buried his hands in Sock’s soft auburn hair and felt warm hands under his shirt. He shivered, and bit Sock’s lip in the process. The noise made as a result made something stir in his pants.

_Agh, what the fuck._

“Oh, what, are you turned on or something?” Sock whispers in Jon’s ear as he bites his neck back. To his surprise, a soft moan escapes his lips.

Jon gently pushes Sock away and pulls his shirt off, then his own. He leans forward and moves his mouth to the shorter boy’s collarbone, playfully licking a trail there and ending it with a bite. Sock’s hips buck forward, and they both realize that the other is way harder than they expected.

Suddenly, warm hands are making their way into Jonathan’s gym shorts.

His spine shivers and he pulls away slightly. “Aah, what are you doing?”

“What I’m good at.”

Well, he’s not going to argue with that.

Ever-slow-slowly putting his weight on his knees, Sock’s hands are now on Jon’s thighs, and his eyes are on his in a silent question. Jon somehow embarrassedly nods, rolls his eyes, and smiles crookedly all at the same time.

He feels his gym shorts being pulled down painfully slow, and soft lips on his scars, and the feeling makes him shiver.

Sock lets his hands run over his erection again, which makes them both shiver all the more. It feels to both of them like they had just crossed a line into illegal property. This wasn’t a flirty text message, this was really happening.

He starts to kiss around the hard outline in Jon’s boxers, catching him off guard and resulting in a moan.

Sock continued with the kisses. “I want these off. Is that okay?” he mumbles against Jon’s clothed dick.

“please.”

Sock steals another look at Jon’s face, which peers back in what seems like fascination, almost. They don’t break eye contact, and Sock tries not to laugh as he takes a tongue ball piercing out of his pocket and puts it on.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Aren’t you, like, 14?”

“Shh.” Sock purrs, and licked a stripe up Jon’s dick before taking slowly taking it into his mouth, eliciting a suppressed grunt from him.

It took all of his strength not to buck his hips forward.

“Fuck…Sock” He moaned out, letting his hands get tangled in Sock’s auburn hair. Sock continued to work on Jon’s cock, slowly sucking up and down, running his tongue across the tip every now and again, the cold metal of his piercing leaving tiny cold trails, and leaving slight love nips. Jon shivered and gripped onto the the locker behind him, praying that no one would need to use the locker room any time soon. His concerns were forgotten, however, as Sock purposefully trailed his nibbles to the head again, using his hand to push back Jon’s foreskin so he could nibble where it connected, pushing him to come way harder than he had in a really long time. He could all but lean back against the lockers more, moaning louder than what was probably safe, and whimpering Sock’s name.

He panted for a few seconds before he heard faint giggling to see Sock, still on his knees, sticking out his tongue in a cutesy, childish way, which was kind of fucked up, seeing as it and the rest of his face was covered with a mixture of cum and spit.

Jon sits down so he’s eye-level with Sock and connects the gap between them, both of them laughing against the other’s lips.

Jon chases Sock’s tongue with his own, tasting himself on his lips. Their laughter quiets and they sigh into the kiss. Taking the lead, Jon makes it gentle when either one of them might have continued their playful and rough onslaught. Sock stiffens slightly, but Jonathan softly sucks on his tongue and he relaxes, allowing the tender caress.

“Uhh…”

“Don’t worry, I’m used to this. I’ll jack off later.”

Jon’s mind wanders, slightly concerned, in between the kisses. He hears Sock’s voice again.

“Uh, I think... I lov—

“Shut up...” Jon stops him, the words not harsh. “I know.”

“You kind of scare me,” Jon continues, cupping Sock’s face. “But it’s okay. It wouldn’t be the same if you were any other way. Besides,” he breaks into a smile, the one that Sock feels like is special just for him every time he sees it. “You can still be my boyfriend, even if you’re kind of a hoe.”

Sock blinks in surprise. “Wait, wait, waitwaitwaitwait, SHIT, really? Jon, I wear fuckin’ weird clothes for one thing, and I have no idea what my gender is...I’m so fucked up though, I kill animals sometimes, and I get these awful impulses…”

Jon just laughs, and he opens his mouth to say something, but he’s interrupted by the bell.

Both of their eyes widen and without a word, they gather their clothes and dash to the other side of the locker room.

✝✝✝

Sock closes the bathroom stall’s door right as he hears “Shit, my dick’s still out.” He has to use all his strength not to laugh.

“Dude, turn around.” Jon laughs as they both start getting dressed and Sock automatically looks over his shoulder.

“Jonathan, your dick was literally in my mouth two seconds ago.”

“Okay, true.”

Once they’re considerably dressed and the ruckus of locker room boys had faded, they go to the sinks to wash off bits of dried cum. Then they’re silent as they look in the mirror and their eyes roam to the marks they had left on each other.

“I can’t believe you did that.”

“What part of this is hard to believe, huh, loverboy?”

Jon rolls his eyes and starts to walk out. “I just can’t believe you like me back.”

…

They walk out of the school and are greeted with the sight of Lil and Jojo wrapped up in a scarf together, walking down the school’s driveway as it starts to snow.

They give each other a knowing look, partly “We should do that sometime.”

Right as Sock turns to get on his bus, Jon tugs on his collar and he does a 180.

“Do you wanna come over?”

“Oh hell no.” Sock says sarcastically, but he’s already walking in the direction of bus 66.

When they sit down, Sock puts one of Jon’s headphones in and leans on his shoulder. He can see the snow falling outside past the foggy window, and his eyelids start to feel heavy. The last thing he notices before drifting off is the lines of the weird indie song Jon’s playing.

_I want every other freckle,_

_I want every other freckle..._


End file.
